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"MOTHER?!! OH MY GOD I CAN’T UNSEE THAT!"
Bernie's gaze flicked from a bare-breasted Serena, to a wide-eyed Ellie, to the bowl of fruit on the table.
Anyone else would have had the good sense to feel a modicum of shame or modesty.
Serena Wendy Campbell was not anyone, and simply finished thumbing a spoonful of biscuit dough onto the pan, set down the spoon and stalked after Elinor, who was making a fast, if noisy exit.
Bernie followed, but hung back in the hallway, not wanting to interfere but aware of how much wine had been consumed to get them to this point. She was prepared to keep Serena inside, if need be.
Hands on hips, drawn to her full height, Serena lit into her daughter. "I am a fully grown adult, in the privacy of my own home, and am newly and happily marrived — a fact that should be no surprise, as you attended the wedding — so if I want to enjoy my day off and bake bickies for my wife, I bloody well will.
“Topless and barely able to stand?”
“I can stand perfectly well," Serena slurred. To her credit she was only a bit wobbly.
“I, er, I was keeping an eye on her," Bernie offered, uncomfortably.
“I bet you were! Not helping Bernie! You two are worse than a couple of fourteen-year-olds. I'm going back to mine!”
“Let this be a lesson to call first next time, darling! God knows what we’d have been up to should you have popped in unannounced after the biscuits were in the oven.”
“MOTHER! STOP! Ewww! You’re still topless you know,” Elinor squalled and jerked the door shut behind her.
“Love you too, darling!” Serena shouted through the door. “Do call first next time!”
Serena glanced over her shoulder at a wide-eyed Bernie, before dissolving into peals of laughter. “Bit of naked shouting never hurt anyone.”
“She’ll think twice before letting herself in next time," Bernie said in-between embarrassingly loud honks.
“As well she should." Serena wiped tears from her eyes, gasping. "The look on her face! Can you imagine if it was you, tits out? She would have sunk through the floor.”
“I seriously doubt I would be drunkenly baking you bickies whilst in the nude, Campbell.”
“You would if I asked you to.”
“Please don't ask me to.”
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“On what I get out of the deal.”
“What deal?”
“Well you’re getting biscuits. And an eye-full.”
“Neither of which I asked for.”
“You’re welcome, darling. So what do I get?”
“A hangover and a sugar rush?”
“What are you going to do for me?”
“Bring you an aspirin and some water. And not lecture you on the dangers of using heating elements while soused?”
Serena snorted and slid the sheet of biscuits into the oven.
“Told you I wouldn't burn myself.”
“The afternoon is young, and you still have to get them back out of the oven," Bernie said with a grin.
"Hush, you," she slurred, swatting at Bernie's arse. "Now, I believe you were about to show me your wifely appreciation for my drunk baking skills?"